When His Time Stopped
by OnceADreamer
Summary: They could have both died after this fall, and it would have brought the peace this world needed. But the older man decided against it, he decided that nothing had to end this way. But Will didn't know how far he would go for this only person. He didn't know that his decisions were already made: he would follow him anywhere. And life was only beautiful when Hannibal made it.
1. Chapter 1

Cold. The first thing he felt was how cold the water was. The feeling was exceptionally new and unknown, as if this coldness was unique to the ocean. And yet, he didn't feel pain, no. It was something more. He accomplished something he never thought he would be able to do. He was confused, certainly, the fall had been unpredictable and painful. But it wasn't the most important thing he thought about. In fact, he now found a peace he never knew he was seeking. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world: knowing that everything wasn't as complicated as before, that it was right. It was the righteous act. And it was that thought that prevented him to swim to the surface. Death was peaceful, wasn't it? He knew that, this time, he wouldn't go back from that, why would he? And yet that didn't bother him, because the pain, the actual pain he felt so many times before wasn't there. He actually was quite sensitive about physical pain, not as much as the mental one, but still. All those times he endured it, it was so uncomfortable. So uncomfortable he never even felt the need to scream. It was more than that. And now he still didn't want to scream. He was just… at peace. At a wonderful peace that was so rare and so palpable. But everything was so right. Beautiful.

But peace wasn't known to last. Man wasn't made to only live with it, it just existed to make pain even more unbearable. Longer. And yes, that was only now that the reality of the instant sank in: he was dying. His life was ending, in such a common way. Peace left, beauty didn't. Death was beautiful, even if he was just drowning, an end so commonly known and felt. He understood at that very moment that it wasn't how you died that mattered the most. It didn't. In fact, it was more the reason why you were dying that was so important. What would it bring and leave. Because any person at that moment would only have one question, he realized: will it matter? He actually didn't know what was going to change. Someone will take his place in this world, and he would be left in the sea. Simple as that. And yet, even that didn't bother him. Fear wasn't the reason why he had those thoughts, this feeling wasn't there, it wasn't needed. He didn't need anything, not even an answer. The significance of all this wasn't wanted even. He would not die with water filling his lungs, no. He would die because of the beauty of all this. It was the most beautiful moment of his life.

It was just with this that body and mind made one, without his consent. It wasn't up to him if he was going to die or not, he wasn't the one who made the final decision. Even now he couldn't just go freely, when the puzzle was finally made and done. No, death wasn't peaceful because life always had to intercept it. Those contrasted feelings didn't help him in the least, he didn't know what to feel anymore. But he didn't have to know what to do, his body was doing everything by itself. It didn't want to be left there, falling at the bottom of the ocean. Without even being entirely conscious, without being actually there, he swam back to the surface, the moon being brighter and brighter with each of his movements. He only realized how far he was sinking when his face emerged from the water. Tired. The first thing that came to his mind when air replaced the water in his lungs was how tired he was. He didn't even know if he had enough strength to survive this, even if his body would not let him die just as he wished.

He coughed and coughed, his lungs burning him, punishing him for staying under the water for so long. His vision was blurred by the tears that came with it, he didn't know what was going on around him, but what he felt was the solitude that was unpleasant and unappreciated. He didn't want to be alone now, not when he had to live this, this moment which was, in fact, so painfully hard to endure now. He was better dying, knowing that he would live left a bitter taste on his tongue. Or maybe it was just the salt of the ocean, but it wasn't the reason why his heart kept beating harder and harder, as if it wanted to leave this weak body. Weak, weak, weak. He even was incapable of dying.

He didn't try to swim; he saw a shore that wasn't this far but it didn't tempt him. What he wanted was the answer to that pain that wasn't only physical but present. Why now?

Oh, but he had an answer, he thought, a smile growing on his lips.

"Hannibal," he whispered with what little strength he had, before feeling his body giving in, his mind finally quieting after all this symphony of grief.

* * *

Sand brushing his fingers.

His head so heavy he thought we inserted plumb in it.

Water finally leaving his lungs through his mouth. And hands, hands everywhere. On his torso, his cheeks, the back of his head.

"I need you to stay with me Will. Breathe."

Weak, he was too weak. He couldn't stay with him.

* * *

The first thing he sensed was a sound, familiar. The roars of a car, he affirmed. He didn't want to open his eyes, still in a certain pain, but which was much easier to go through. That was okay, he was used to physical pain, he even felt a sort of calm with it which was soothing. He didn't know how long he slept, but from the windshield he felt a heat which could have only been made by the sun.

Actually, the only thing he wanted now was to sleep again, have a rest not troubled by nightmares, for once. He lived way too much to have enough strength to dream about anything. Even thinking clearly was too difficult right now.

"Will, you are safe now," said this voice, also too familiar. That was this voice that made him open his eyes, a strange feeling of certainty emanating through it. And thanks to it Will knew he was right. The danger wasn't here anymore. Just like this will of staying in the ocean, unknown by anyone. Even this didn't bring him the security this voice brought.

"I know," he simply answered while he brought his hand to his eyes, the sun too bright right now.

The night had faded but not since long, everything outside of this car was colored by a beautiful orange only the sun could make. It was still dawn and that reassured him, in a way. Yes. Even through the hardest of nights, the day would still come up. The road was empty, which brought a sense of solitude that was welcome especially at this instant. As if they were both alone in this world, a world where he was never accepted and wanted. Except from the person next to him, maybe.

He hoped the person next to him wanted him in this world. That would give him a reason not to go back to that poisonous water. Oh, he was at peace, and it was beautiful. As beautiful as death.

"Seeing you smile is reassuring Will. How are you in that very moment?"

"At peace," he simply answered. What would he add? He didn't know how he could name this multitude of feelings, so numerous but so coordinated. "Yeah, I'm fine."

He turned his head to Hannibal, to see that the man was smiling. He too was fine, and still as elegant as ever, as if everything that happened hours ago – it actually felt like days – was just a dream to Will. Was it?

"Did I drown last night?" he asked, needing to have answers immediately. He could have waited to know, that they would be out of this car, in a more secure place where they would have been able to talk about everything that has happened until now. But no, he wanted to be fully conscious of all he had to understand.

"Almost," Hannibal answered, turning back his gaze to the road. "You emerged first from the water, seconds before I would too. But you were hurt in the back of your head – you inevitably hit a rock by falling. You went unconscious right after that. You would have died without even being aware of it, but I did not let that happen."

"Why didn't you?" Yes, why? That was the point of all that. Neither he nor Hannibal were supposed to live. Not in this world, legitimately. They didn't have the right to make their path on it.

"I will never let you die when I can act against it, Will. Even if it is your decision."

He went silent after that, not doubting his words. He had all the reasons not to believe him, Hannibal was a good liar after all. And he didn't want to think about the many times he almost died because of him. But, once again, almost. He was still alive, wasn't he? Yet after all this time he didn't understand him or why he was always doing the opposite of what he was supposed to do. He felt like Hannibal was the mystery of his life, the only person who decided if he would die or not. He wasn't God, but he sure liked to manipulate someone else's life. Especially his.

"We should have died. It was supposed to end this way, you and I. We don't have a place in this world."

"I don't agree with you, Will. Actually, we both are more present in this world than anyone else. We are supposed to live this lifetime, with or without each other. And now, I need you to trust me on that."

"Why would I do that? You never gave me a good reason to, you want my life to end in your own terms, not mine. I will never be safe with you, not when I can't know what's going on in your mind," and even by saying that, he knew he was wrong. Anyone but him was the real danger, and Hannibal was the one who would go in front of it and fight it. How paradoxical of a man he was, he knew he would never get used to him.

"You know better than anyone that what you're saying is not true," the older man answered. He put a hand on Will's forehead. He was feverish, he knew that, but that wasn't the problem. He knew that his life was taking a turn at this very moment, and he wanted to know why and how. He didn't like mysteries. Apart from Hannibal. "This is going to be better now, I promise you."

"I could call Jack the moment you turn your back."

"You won't, you don't want that."

"I know," he repeated, his voice quieter and quieter. He was always right, he always knew how to perfectly read him, leaving Will with absolutely no secrets. He should have been bothered by that, but he wasn't, he didn't find the purpose.

"Thank you," Will finally said, knowing Hannibal would understand the true meaning of it.

Silence wasn't a problem with Hannibal, even if he was the only person whose conversation wasn't felt like a burden. They were both at ease with the other; Will didn't need more answers when everything seemed so clear now. There wasn't even a duality within him, the idea of going back to Virginia – because it was clear as day that they left the state behind them, if only that – wasn't a solution, he had nothing that was waiting for him there. And he didn't want this life of uncertainty and fake smiles, anyone around him acting as if he was like them when he clearly wasn't. In fact, a weight he didn't even know he was bearing left his shoulders, leaving him free. He never got used of this typical life with Molly and her son, which slowly became his too. He wanted so much to get away from Hannibal he did things he never thought he would. Molly didn't deserve that, but he did it anyway. And now he had only regrets to live with.

"You know, I really wanted to do as Jack thought it would happen, yesterday. I didn't want you or Dolarhyde to survive, but I knew that I had to go with you. But that makes me curious about something."

"Please do tell, we have all the time in the world now," affirmed Hannibal as if he was talking about the weather, when this only sentence troubled Will so much he thought he misunderstood. Even for Hannibal, everything had lost its interest, but the both of them and what the future may give them. They were the only ones that mattered. Finally.

"Why did you let us fall?" he asked after another moment of silence. He wanted to ask him about what all of this meant, but he couldn't. He was afraid that what he would have as answers was all he dreamed about his entire life, without being aware until now. A companion. He only ever wanted someone who would accept him the way he was. How stupid he was being.

"I hoped we would have come to this conclusion, to this present," Hannibal answered while watching Will in the eyes, as if he wanted to know his thoughts. Maybe he did read his mind. "There was a chance we would have survived, so I took it and let you do what you wanted. And maybe Jack will believe we are truly dead and too far in the ocean to be found, or he won't. I erased you from your old life Will, it doesn't exist anymore. This ring doesn't have a meaning anymore, just like all your regrets. Please, leave all this behind you, it doesn't matter now. Only this, does."

"I don't know what to do anymore. We should have died," he repeated, again and again.

"Stop, Will. You don't need to be obsessed by death any longer, you won't need it again. It was an exit that is now useless ."

"Suicide is the enemy, isn't it?"

"It is, and you know that better than anyone. You don't deserve this end."

He smiled at that, but stopped it when he felt a pain on his cheek. He moved his hand to it and felt a bandage he didn't remember putting on. He was now acutely aware of all his injuries, on his torso, his head, everywhere. The effects of the drugs Hannibal might have given him were fading, which brought more reality to all of this.

"You took a bullet last night, how come you're standing as if nothing had happened?"

"I endure pain much better than you do Will. And I also removed it before I took care of you. I stitched the wound just like I stitched yours; I was afraid your internal organs would have been affected, but they weren't. We were both very lucky."

"Yeah, we're lucky you had a Ph. D."

And Hannibal smiled at that, a happy smile growing on his lips.

"Yes, we are."

Yes, Hannibal seemed happier than he ever saw him. It made him remember how content he was when they first saw each other after a long time, at the Uffizi museum. As if he was the only one who could put a smile on that face. Was he?

He remembered how solitary both of their lives were before. Even with a family, he couldn't have felt happy because something was missing. Someone. Thinking life was livable this way, by himself was his biggest mistake, and he lived with it all his life. Only now, and here, he knew how wrong he was. It was either having this instant with Hannibal, or dying. And the three years felt like he was asleep during a very long time, not aware of what he was doing, or thinking.

He had to admit it: he only lived his life when Hannibal was by his side. He didn't like this feeling of dependency, but it was in him, and it was so needed it felt like he was carrying a weight too heavy for him, he could only think about it. Losing one to gain another.

Hours passed, but were felt like minutes. They were usually alone on the road, but the moments they weren't left Will aghast. How could people not see Hannibal? His face was now popular in the country thanks to Freddie Lounds, but not only. He fascinated people so much he was known by almost anyone. And Will felt Hannibal's aura so much, it shined like a powerful light. But no one saw it, turned their head to the car, or knew that this person, so dangerous, was only meters away from them. How could people be this blind? Maybe it was just him. Maybe it only shined this much for him.

"You're not trying to know where we're going," suddenly said the older man, breaking a silence in which Will was so pensive he didn't see the lake at their right, nor the numerous trees surrounding them.

"You would have told me if I needed to know," he just answered, looking at the view he had by the window. "But I would be happy if you told me we're not far from our destination."

"I was quite certain this place would please you, in fact." Hannibal continued to drive a bit, at a slower speed, receding from the trees. And when only a house and the lake could be seen, he stopped.

Here, in this lake house, they would hide from anyone.

Hannibal then got out of the car. Will followed his movement, and before they made another, both men looked at the other.

"Now you know exactly where to find me when you need me," finally added Hannibal, always this smile growing on his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

They were out of this world, was the first thought of Will while he was looking at the house and its surroundings. There were trees and more trees, everywhere, there were so many he couldn't see anything but them. The road was the only thing that could link them to the society out there. It was very silent if we didn't count the singing birds and the young man welcomed that gratefully, his mind quieting thanks to it. Hannibal and this place made him know a rest he didn't know he was seeking, and it was a strange feeling, he didn't know if he could trust it. Be he didn't want it to go, so he didn't think much about that.

Apart from that, it was all very… savage. Wild. He somehow felt like he was a part of this environment, a complement more than an opposition, which he should be. By escaping his old life, he said goodbye to everything. His humanity, even. As if he wasn't real anymore, that was maybe why he loved this new place right away. He needed to only be with the wildness, him being a savage animal. He couldn't be tamed, he'd rather live by himself without being worried about anything and anyone. Oh man, he and Hannibal made such a good team.

He looked at Hannibal, not daring to walk to the house.

"When did you buy this? Is it even yours?" he asked, wondering how they could be there without anyone jumping on them.

"It is mine indeed," answered Hannibal calmly while looking at the house, before closing the door of his car. "I bought it years ago with a fake name, of course. In case I needed to hide, and I guess I wasn't wrong about this financing. We won't find us here; the nearest neighbor is miles away. It's only us, and the vegetation."

"I guess I could get used to that," he said, even if it clearly was an understatement. "Where are we?"

"In Minnesota, and in front of us is the Leech Lake, a perfect area for fishing."

Will smiled at that. Yes, Hannibal thought of everything.

"I bought it for you without even realizing," confessed the older man. "It was months before we met each other, but I never lived in it. I didn't find the purpose, or the appeal, until today. This house is perfect now, we don't need to worry about anything by living in here. Come and see it."

Will followed Hannibal, both walking to the house without saying anything. He cogitated on those words, trying to find their meanings. As if Hannibal knew they would come to this day, and even before they met. Was everything that happened until today his plan? Was he just a character to a story already ended? It all seemed this way, as if he didn't have any free will. Even if the older man treated him as an equal, he would never be. And he didn't know when he could finally decide for himself. Or even if he could, one day.

The house was way too big for two persons only, and yet, it was maybe too small to Hannibal's standards. It wasn't at all like both of their houses, but it had an elegance only the older man could give, as if all the décor had been decided and created by him. Once again, it surely was, Hannibal wasn't the kind of person to let someone do something he could do by himself. And what surprised Will was this sentiment of feeling at home, he could sense that living here wouldn't be too uncomfortable, quite the contrary even. He always liked Hannibal's house in Baltimore, but always felt welcomed only thanks to the owner. After he was gone and Will was left by himself, the habitation felt too cold. Only the memory of Hannibal made him feel like staying more than a few minutes. Here, it was different, the house looked more like he was the owner and not the older man. The sun was everywhere, in every room, and Will smiled to that. It made such a change with his old life, as if this new one was better than anything he had already lived. He hoped. The first room he entered was the living room in which, of course, there were books everywhere. It was still Hannibal's house indeed. The kitchen was at the left, the dining room close to it. But Will didn't look twice at it all, he preferred to look at the view in front of him.

He wondered if Hannibal had lied to him and bought this house for him, this property wasn't like him at all. By knowing him, Will knew that he could have. He wanted this new path so much he would be ready to do anything, he was sure of that. Maybe Hannibal was tired of living alone. They both were.

"I feel like you planned all this, everything that happened," admitted Will after a while, sensing that Hannibal was right behind him. Both hadn't said a word since they entered the house, but it hadn't been needed, not even now. It would take him a while to get used to this quietness.

"I knew that the day would come when you would stop lying to yourself," slowly replied Hannibal, standing beside him, and looked at the view too, pensive. "You were suffering all this time, from the day I first saw you and even before that. One can't live with that pain longer than this lifetime, not even you. And there were only two ends to all that: you would have needed to die or to escape. And you did both. No, I didn't plan all of this, it was just obvious that it would have ended this way. And I can sense a certain alleviation from you, am I wrong Will?"

"You're not, I'm just waiting for the outcome. This is too beautiful to be true."

"Can't you live in the instant, Will? Enjoy everything that is in front of you, you don't need to do anything else. If you don't do that, you will always suffer, no matter the place or the time. And I know you don't want that anymore."

"So, all that was to free me?" asked Will with a laugh, as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.

"Why can't you consider that, am I that evil to you?" he said while turning his head and looking inquisitively at Will. "It was to release you indeed, who would have given you that but me? Jack Crawford? Molly and your son? No, they didn't care enough about you to give you that. And you're important, Will."

"I've always wanted to run with you, and of course you know that. But is it just that? Only that?"

"No it isn't, of course, I thought about me quite selfishly all along too. I always dreamed of a companion to follow me, I'm quite of a nomade, you see? Living all of this alone was tiring, when there is so much to discover, especially for you. I know you will enjoy everything from now on, even if you're not so sure about that today. But all I'm asking of you is to trust me. You will finally be happy, I promise."

"Okay. Okay, I will. I don't know how, but I will," he conceded. "You know I was by myself all this time, and I knew you were the only companion I needed too. But I didn't want to admit that, and everything else. I still don't. I need time to think about all of this."

"I know, this is why we're here. Take this place as a pause, we both needed that."

"I will, but I'm not exactly sure how."

"You might need to rest after today, you can do that while I make dinner," offered Hannibal to end the conversation instead of arguing with him.

He wanted to ask him not to do anything too… problematic as a meal, but he didn't. Hannibal was smarter than that, he knew he wasn't at ease with anything right now. And from where would he bring the meat? The closest human being was miles away, he wouldn't have time to do that. Well, he hoped he didn't.

After those thoughts, he went upstairs, not surprised by the luxury of the floor and its rooms. When he entered to what will be his bedroom, he wondered about his baggage. He didn't think they brought anything with them, even if he had clothes on himself he didn't remember putting on. And how will they buy anything if most likely their faces will be everywhere? He knew Hannibal had the answers, but how? But, he stopped wondering about that when a shower felt most needed at the moment.

He undressed and, once he was naked in the bathroom, he made an inventory of his scars and new injuries in front of the mirror. He had many bandages everywhere, on the torso, his back, his cheek, but he didn't need to take them off to know what was underneath. He was too used to all of that, in fact he knew the pain by heart. He was in pain, but tried to ignore it, it was no use to focus on that, it would heal naturally and only scars would be left. People had tattoos to keep their memories: he had his scars. He smiled while looking at them: he survived all of this, for a reason, he was certain of that. In fact, few things scared them now, but Hannibal never did. He hurt him, left him to die – did he? -, abandoned him, but even after all those years, he never, ever scared him. Not even Dolarhyde during their fight, no one. He fought it all for a meaning, and while he was caressing the scar on his lower abdomen, he knew he would fight again, and again. That was what he was agreeing to. He only hoped Hannibal needed him as much as he did. All those years, to finally come to those conclusions. And he didn't regret it, not one bit. At least, not yet.

He took a long shower, not minding about the bandages, which appeared to be waterproof. He then put a towel around his hips, and thought about putting the clothes he had earlier, before looking at the room's closet. Wondering, he opened it… to find it filled with different clothes. Shirts, jackets, vests, pants, jeans. Even suits, that were all his size, as if tailored. He chuckled, not even impressed by Hannibal's preventions. Of course he planned all that.

Clothed with a new a new pair of grey pants and a dark shirt, he joined Hannibal in the kitchen. The scent of herbs and spices were filling the house with a delicious smell which made him remember of how actually hungry he was. Before joining the older man, he took the tablet left in the living room: he needed to see the news and to have an idea of what was going on while they were away.

"Do you need help?" he offered without actually offering it: he knew he wouldn't be of any assistance, especially to a cook like Hannibal.

"Thank you, but no, I almost finished," answered Hannibal while he put the meal in the oven. He then cut some vegetables, and Will didn't even try to wonder what he was cooking: all this was a foreign country to him. "So, you found something interesting with your researches?"

"Not yet, but guess what, nothing will surprise me. Should I start with Freddie Lounds or the news?"

"Freddie Lounds, please. I wonder what article she might have written about it all."

He didn't have to wait long for that. On the first page of the website was written in red, capital letters: "THE MURDER HUSBANDS MISSING, FINALLY DEAD… OR REUNITED?"

Well, he was waiting for worse from her, but he guessed she didn't have a lot to work on since the evidences were there. He turned the tablet to Hannibal so that he would see by himself. The older man stopped what he was doing to move closer to Will and the tablet, after cleaning his hands on a towel. What was first obvious was the number of comments that were left at the end of the article. They were numerous, but they both didn't care about them, they knew how people reacted about those articles and Will and Hannibal's relationships. Will did read them once, to finally regret it, commentators were always so… excited, he didn't know why. Apart from that, the article reflected the FBI's thoughts but in Lounds' way: they didn't know where they were, they suspected they were dead but weren't that convinced of that after finding no trace admitting it. They found Dolarhyde's body, of course, who was confirmed dead but nothing else. Their blood was found on the crime scene, even the coverall from Baltimore that Hannibal had put off. An ax, a knife, everything they used during their fight was found and investigated. But they both left no clues behind them, especially Hannibal, since he was the one who decided they would run away.

But they both knew Jack Crawford was perfectly aware they didn't die and were already far away from all of this. Together. Will thought it wasn't a surprise to him, he must have had noticed he always wanted to run away with Hannibal, he even said it clearly once. He wondered how he could have had fooled himself when it was always so evident.

And now, by seeing himself and Hannibal in this minute, he didn't care about what other people thought or if they wanted to see them dead and buried forever. At least now he didn't hurt himself anymore.

"Well, I guess it's time for the hunt, again," says Hannibal, which made him startle, already so deep in his thoughts. "And this time, not by myself."

"Yeah, you're right," he only adds, watching by the window to avoid Hannibal's gaze. He was still thinking if they were this alike. If two footsteps were finally only one.

"This is just a very long trip Will, and it isn't that inconvenient. In fact, I discovered more things by being chased than when I'm not. I always needed to move, so it was a good way to travel. You will enjoy that, it's very satisfying to know that many people are looking for you and are never able to have any sort of contentment."

"But you know they will never stop, right? Especially Jack, he's very stubborn, even more when he has some purpose. It was almost easy to find you in Florence: once we learn your tastes, we simply have to follow them."

"I wanted to be found when I was in Italy, and by you mostly," admitted Hannibal while taking off his apron and tidying it. "It was always my second home after Lithuania, this is why I kept certain things from the life I had there. Such as the food, the wines, the art, the tastes. It always brought me there, and I told you all that indirectly. This time we will not act this way, you don't have to question yourself about the FBI or Jack Crawford since they are not important anymore. They never were, actually."

"I know, it's just… I will need time to get used to all of that, it is still a foreign country to me."

"And it won't be in the near future. You think too much Will, you have to enjoy that we can sail away now."

He didn't answer to that; he didn't need to. Of course Hannibal knew he was always right. He didn't have doubts, to be honest, not when it all seemed so organized, even if he didn't know about the plans they were supposed to make, and he wasn't scared either, no. It didn't feel that way, but he knew deep inside him that all of this was just because of the thrill of running away. Knowing that the near future was full of surprises brought such a warm feeling it made him want to smile. But he didn't, or couldn't, this feeling was mixed with so many others.

He then helped Hannibal to set the table, always in a maneuvered way he was used to with the man. He sat next to Hannibal's sit when he was busy with the food in the kitchen; he didn't have to wait long to see him back with a platter, once again it looked so beautiful he wondered how he could have done it in such a short period of time while he was in the shower. He tried to enumerate the things the older man couldn't do: the list went very short too.

"Carré d'agneau accompagné de légumes de la ferme," presented Hannibal while putting the platter on the table, before sitting by his side.

"This looks delicious, as always, but you know I didn't understand a thing you said now, right?" he said, which brought a slight laugh from Hannibal.

"It's a rack of lamb with vegetables from a farm, not far from here. It's a French meal I learn there, which is very simple. I will tell you how to do it when we'll go there," he offered while serving a plate to Will.

The latter wasn't surprised to learn that Hannibal wanted to go to Europe after all; as if he couldn't prevent himself from going there. He understood the appeal, he just didn't share it, since his childhood he was used to simple, local things which didn't make him wish of searching for something else.

After dinner – and Hannibal promptly refusing him to wash the dishes, which was the oddest conversation he had with him –, Will decided that he wanted to try this lake by fishing. He already missed doing so even if it wasn't that long since he did it, but after all that happened it felt like it was decades ago. A smile grew on his lips when he discovered that the house was also filled with everything he needed. From his favorite fishing rods to the waders of his size and favorite label, everything was there, which was too good to be true: as if Hannibal took them before leaving Baltimore. He wished he didn't do that: imagining Molly and Hannibal in the same house was not a thought he wished to wander on. Or if they were in the same room, even. He put on the right clothes, because even the cap was here, and then went directing himself by the light of the stars.

At night the surroundings seemed almost magic, it was much more beautiful than what he was used to see in Baltimore. It all gave a sense of unreality to everything, as if he was still sleeping, without being able to wake up. The moon was bright, reflecting with the stars on the lake which was considerable, of a size he wasn't used to. Before he even penetrated the water he knew it was full of fishes, that making him enjoy fishing at night even more. He slowly penetrated the water as to not make a big fuss and startle the fishes already there, and threw his hook in an agile way, how he was accustomed to.

He was slowly reacquainting to his old habits, when quiet noises startled him, telling him he wasn't alone anymore. Indeed, Hannibal slowly stood beside him, in the same uniform he was. It made him open his eyes widely: he was not used of seeing him with waders and a fishing rod in hand. Only the cap was missing, which was too bad he thought.

"I'm assuming you already know how to fish?" he asked without making a comment about this.

"You're assuming right, I had the pleasure of doing so in my younger years," simply answered Hannibal.

And with this they both occupied themselves with this new activity, one he knew they would need to be familiar to do together. And he wasn't annoyed by that, at all. He only wished Abigail was with them, now, just as he dreamed of.

"You told me you never went here and yet I find the house filled with many surprises much to my liking," he added after a moment of silence, in which neither he nor Hannibal caught a fish.

"I told you, things went the way I wanted them to be, so of course I wanted you to be at ease here, to be at home. And you know Will, you're very easy to satisfy, only a look at your house to know that I needed to bring only a few things here. Just like your fishing rods."

"Just like my fishing rods," he admitted, before he decided to give a better interest at what he was doing without forgetting the person beside him, who felt like his shadow.

What Will didn't know, or wanted to deny, was that he didn't need more than a day to be in a complete harmony with Hannibal. He didn't want to know how much alike they really were, and not just about the killing. They shared the same passions, the same envies, the same thoughts. About practically everything. In fact, they shared the same brains, in two opposite bodies. He was meant to live this life with him, maybe he was predisposed to only stay and be happy with him. And he was ready to do all that.


	3. Chapter 3

_By the way, I'm much more present on archiveofourown if you want to follow the story there. I can't post links on the chapter but the story has the same name and can be found easily there._

* * *

There was blood everywhere, so much he couldn't see anything but that; and it was beautiful. It was like all those masterpieces artists devoted their life for: what was in front of him was his legacy to the world, and oh, he was proud. He was a bloody red too, from his hair to his toes, and it kept dropping, again, and again, and again. He raised his head to the ceiling, it was also red, he didn't even know how it had went there, did he do that? He hoped so, and he smiled as if he couldn't be happier than now. He won against them all, and himself included. All this life had not been important until this very moment, and he felt powerful, invincible even. Without the help of anyone or any gun, he did all that, who could doubt him now? There were so many bodies he couldn't walk without putting his feet on one, and he didn't care, they were all his, he could do anything he wanted with them. Even if they were now only lifeless bodies, their owner stopping breathing in the touch of his hands. He remembered every murder, every bead of blood leaving the corpses to fall on him, and the eyes. The eyes were so important during all the process, it was the thing he would remember the most. His victim knew that they couldn't survive to this, to him, but they kept pleading anyway, with a strength he never knew they were capable of. They looked at him, right in the eyes, and without moving their lips, screamed "please, please, please don't do this". And he laughed, because they were so stupid, why would they act like this when they knew they had no issues? Didn't they want to have a bit of dignity at the end? Or did they just want to end all of this like they started it. He wished one of them would have been different, would have at least tried to understand why he did all that, but they were all just selfish. Even if he did them a favor, they just wanted to _live._ For nothing.

But people don't deserve to live if they choose to become stupid, lifeless people.

He had had an audience during all of that, but hadn't paid attention to it, he had been so focused he forgot all that wasn't him and the sight of the blood. He was his shadow now, he didn't make a sound, was almost invisible if he didn't feel him to his core. He even tried moves during his murders only him made before, with a grace he knew he didn't have, for now at least. He was still a beginner, and he wondered what damages he could do in a few years. Well, he would teach him everything he needed to know and do, to make all of this more beautiful. He could always do better, because he would show him everything he had to do.

He knew why he talked about his murders as if they were work of arts: because they were, and no painting, no music, no sculpture could give him enough justice. It had always been the masterpiece from the master of all. And he would follow him and all his doings everywhere. The man was just so beautiful everything he touched had to be, and he didn't need a museum to be acclaimed or criticized, because he knew, he simply knew. There was no better thing, human, creator than him. Not even God.

"And Will, you are beautiful. My most beautiful work," Hannibal said behind him, Will sensing his eyes everywhere on him. He didn't need to turn his back to know that he was amazed by his student. And proud, so proud. But he did turn back, he just wanted to see him.

"Nothing's as beautiful as you are, and I only learned from you. Was it all you wanted? Am I finally your equal?" he asked him by watching him, who was also wearing scarlet, just like him.

They both didn't care about anything now, not even about what surrounded them. Only the other mattered. And the other was just as perfect as they needed him to be.

"You're more than that, you've always been, you know that. I'm not impressed by what you did, I knew you could do it. But I wasn't prepared to see how perfect you would be. Did I do all that to you?"

"Oh but you did, and it is the most wonderful thing in the world, don't you think? Are we together now? Do we make a team?"

"Oh but we're not a team Will."

Hannibal approached him, Will not moving a bit. Immobile, he let him do whatever he wanted, because he was his. He was born for him, only him, and he regretted it took him so long to finally understand that. They could have been like that since forever, but he had been stupid like the people at their feet. And he wanted to apologize to him, about that, or to make him know he wanted to change the past. To make the teacup gather together. All of this, his life even, was entirely dedicated to him. It wasn't a compromise; it was simply what he deserved.

"Will," Hannibal whispered, putting both his rough but treasured hands on his face. He kissed him, slowly touching his lips, as if they were too delicate to be touched. "Will, we're only one."

Will didn't make a move, didn't dare to because he wasn't directing his movements, only Hannibal did. He felt the weight of submission all over his body, but didn't try to push it off. He so desperately wanted it, waited for it.

And Hannibal kissed him furiously, taking all of him. And he gave it all.

It was a dog yelping outside that woke him up. He could recognize those sounds anywhere, he was so used to know when an animal was hurt and needed help, and the yelps weren't that loud. Acting without thinking more, he put a shirt on and slowly went out of his room, not wanting to wake Hannibal up, whose room was very close to his. He first decided to go to the kitchen and took a piece of raw meat. And then, always this slowly, he opened the door of the house. The house may be big, any of his moves resonated a lot, and after a dream as vivid as this one, he didn't want to see Hannibal. He knew what it all meant, but he didn't want to show to the older his thoughts. He knew he would see it all simply by looking at his face.

But, at least, the nightmares weren't there anymore.

The dog was nowhere to be seen, but could still be heard. Thanks to that, Will walked to him, handing him slowly the meat while he approached him, to create some sense of trust. The animal was scared but also very hungry, and that was made him walk to Will, his nose moving the more he recognized the scent of food. He smiled at him; he wanted the dog to know that he wouldn't hurt him, he only wanted to help him.

"Good dog," Will said when he finally ate the little pieces of meat he gave him. He knelt down to the dog, and looked at him, or as much as he could with only the light of the stars, and he didn't like what he saw. He was definitely hurt, blood seeping from his left ear and his mouth, and he was limping from his hind limb, which was also bleeding. Teeth marks were visible on his back, and some of his hair was gone from the attack. The fact that he was standing by all his paws impressed Will, but he didn't he couldn't take any more: the only thing making him stand was the food he was given.

When he finally ate the last piece of meat, the dog suddenly fell back, too weak to do anything. He didn't wait any longer and cautiously carried him in his arms, taking him back home. His clothes were being stained with red, but that didn't matter to him. He finally got used to blood, liking it more than the opposite. Pushing the door, he wasn't impressed in the least to find Hannibal waiting for him, wearing a dressing gown and always, always so impeccably combed. When he saw the animal in his arms, he didn't ask anything, just moved to the dining room where he placed white sheets on the table and what appeared to be a bag full of medical instruments;

"You, you just –" started Will by looking at the bag, his eyebrows raised in astonishment.

"Yes?" the older man asked by taking the dogs from the arms and putting him on the table.

"Nothing, just, nothing," he simply answered while still watching Hannibal.

He felt the dog getting weaker and weaker in front of him, but promised himself he wouldn't let him die: he lost a certain amount of blood but he knew the animals and how to take care of them, and Hannibal was once an excellent doctor. He still was, he knew that, that was why he let him do whatever he needed to do at this instant. He let him put a needle in his neck, morphine, and let him see the injuries while Will caressed the dog's head, so that he knew he could trust them both.

"It looks like he has been attacked by wolves, they are numerous here," stated Hannibal when he took note of the wounds in the back. "I'm not worried about his ear and paw, those are minor injuries and the latter is broken but nothing that isn't healed in a few weeks. I hope he is vaccinated because the injuries in the back are profound, but not life threatening. He's going to be alright after a few stitches, but…"

"But what?" he asked when he saw Hannibal frown in front of something he found on the dog. "Did they do more?"

"Look at this, you will know by yourself," he simply answered.

Will wondered how he didn't see this, he was so used to dogs he immediately knew when something was wrong. But this one had just been so damaged by the attack he didn't show anything else. But when he saw the burns almost everywhere on his body, where more hair was still missing. His bones were also showing, highlighting his thinness. How couldn't he have seen that?

He wanted to save the dog when he saw him, it was his first instinct. But Hannibal was in his mind at the same moment, overshadowing what happened in the present, when he had needed to focus. This was getting a bit out of hand.

"He's been mistreated by humans,' he explained while examining his body a few more times to be sure he didn't miss anything else. "He's not old, he's maybe two, three, but he didn't eat for so long he was as heavy as a feather when I took him. I wonder how had survived against the wolves after all that."

"Dogs are also known to be very brave creature, but this one is exceptional. He is lucky you found him Will, he will survive all of this after all."

"Yeah, well I just hope he isn't too mentally damaged."

"And I notice she's not a he. She's a beautiful Labrador, she's maybe three, four even. But I guess you already knew that."

They both took care of her, the dog now sleeping while Will assisted Hannibal: he stitched her, put bandages on her wounds while the younger man tried to soothe her, feeling with the hands on the animal's body and by looking in her eyes how sad she was, even after they treated her properly. She barely ate the food they gave her, she just stopped yelping and laid there, on the table. Will wondered if he should have killed her quickly when he first saw her: he never was able to see any of his dogs suffer, and this one wasn't an exception.

"Animals never deserve the violence we do to them," said Hannibal while looking at the dog, him too caressing his hair. "They are just primitive, they act to feed themselves and their family, and to bring more of their race in this world. The only reason some become too dangerous for the human kind is when that same kind is the only food they see after a long time. Or when people treat them too badly; then it's only justice if the animal wins over its master. Our race is the worst one the world ever knew, it saddens me to know that they have to live with us. They never were the problem."

That made Will look at him, a little smile growing on his lips. He now understood that Hannibal was in fact the purest person he knew, and why he was this careless about violence against people. He wasn't a god, no. He only was just another animal in this world.

They let the dog sleep on the couch in the living room with food and water beside her. Afterwards, Hannibal took care of his medical supplies while Will cleaned the dining room; he then went outside to enjoy the cool weather of the night. He couldn't sleep again after everything that happened, between his dream and the dog.

Sitting on the ground, he looked at the stars, trying to make constellations even if he forgot most of their names. It had been a long time since he had the patience to enjoy the night, but now he felt that he had too much time. It wasn't a problem, on the contrary, but he didn't know what his life was going to be from now on. He didn't know what Hannibal was going to do, or what he planned for them: he looked very happy to spend his days reading, cooking and painting. But Will never had those habits, he was too used of being depressed to have something else to do, they were opposed about that kind of things. Life with him was as easy as it could be, but it was unpredicted too. He almost missed the routine Molly and the FBI gave him, even if it wasn't how he was supposed to live his life.

"I guess you are looking at Ara?" asked Hannibal after a moment, sitting beside him while also looking up at the sky.

"I forgot its name, I couldn't find it. It's a shame I don't remember any of them, they used to be so important to me when I was younger."

"I'm not impressed by this statement, you and Mother Nature as they call it look as if you only make one person."

"Can't find yourself with Man, find yourself with Nature. It always suited me better."

"Then I'm glad I chose this place. There's only us and the wild. But I miss my books."

"What? There are like a thousand of them here, don't they suffice you?"

"There were books that were very dear to me kin my office in Baltimore. Such as my notes about you, that were quite fascinating, you were so intriguing when we first met. So unique. I'm glad I've read them one last time, there is a place just for you in my mind palace."

Will turned his head towards Hannibal, who did the same, looking at him as if he were looking directly at his soul. Will kept looking at him, but with a lesser effect; he could only see what Hannibal was giving, which was very unnerving. Why couldn't he know him the way he did? He wanted to understand the man so much, but Hannibal just wouldn't let him. As if secrets mattered at this point.

"Stop this," Will almost ordered.

"What should I stop?" answered Hannibal while actually not stopping.

"Don't look at me that way, I feel… naked."

"Isn't that the mere purpose of Man? To be understood as well as possible?"

"What's the point if you don't let me see you, huh?"

"I'm letting you do anything you want Will, anything. You're the one who don't want to see."

"You're the only person I'm going to live with for a very long time Hannibal. Hell, I even killed us. Don't you think I want more?" Will said, his eyes going back to the stars. Them talking was disturbing this beautiful night.

Hannibal understood that answering this was of no use. Of course he gave it all to Will, of course, it was all in his hands. But for the first time in a long time, he couldn't get an answer to what seemed a very simple question: Did Will want any of that?


End file.
